


The Witching Hour

by Aini_NuFire



Series: Musketeer Dragon Riders [10]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Dragons, Dragon Riders, Drama, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:35:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22573381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aini_NuFire/pseuds/Aini_NuFire
Summary: The musketeers are sent to arrest a suspected witch for poisoning crops, but is she guilty or only trying to help?
Series: Musketeer Dragon Riders [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1564573
Comments: 21
Kudos: 45





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks again to everyone who's read and commented on this series. I'm glad you're enjoying it, because I'm working on episode 14 at the moment. XD

The Musketeer dragon riders soared over the countryside as they angled toward their destination. Aramis pointed out a field that would be a good landing spot just outside the village. They didn't want to panic the peasants, after all. Apparently they were already spooked as it was; their crops were mysteriously dying and they were blaming a local woman, claiming she was a witch. The Cardinal had sent the musketeers to apprehend her.

Rhaego touched down on the soil and Aramis slid out of the saddle to proceed into the village on foot.

"So when is the wedding?" he asked d'Artagnan cheerfully.

The young Gascon shook his head as he hopped off Porthos's dragon. "We're not going to marry just yet. I've informed Bonacieux of my intention to court Constance, but I'm not going to formally ask for her hand until I'm established."

"You already live wit' 'em," Porthos teased.

"As their lodger, who can barely pay his rent," d'Artagnan pointed out.

"Jean likes you," Aramis said. "And he just wants Constance to be happy."

"Be that as it may," d'Artagnan retorted shortly, "I know he has his reservations. He may want Constance to be happy but he also wants her to be well provided for. Which I can't guarantee until I've gained my commission." He sighed. "I just hope I don't have to wait too much longer."

Aramis gave him a sympathetic smile. He knew how much d'Artagnan wanted to become a musketeer. The boy was working hard at it; he just needed a chance to prove himself to the King.

Unfortunately, investigating rumors of witchcraft wasn't likely to be that chance.

The four of them reached the village, their dragons ambling behind them. Peasants stopped and stared at them, wide-eyed as they passed on their way to the local church that had sent word to the Cardinal of their plight in the first place.

Leaving the dragons outside, the musketeers entered through the main door and passed through the narthex into the nave. Aramis's eyes were immediately drawn to the altar ahead and he crossed himself reverently for being in a house of God.

A priest emerged from the sacristy to their right. "May I help you gentlemen?" he queried.

"Father Duval?" Athos asked.

"Yes."

"I am Athos of the King's Musketeers. We are here on Cardinal Richelieu's orders to investigate the rumors of witchcraft."

By his dry tone it was clear Athos didn't put much stock in magic. It wasn't a common occurrence and as far as Aramis knew, none of them had personally had any experience with it. As a man of God himself, though, he believed in forces beyond the physical world. Whether mortal man was capable of conjuring them, however, was another matter he continued to reserve judgement on.

"Thank the Lord you are here," the priest gushed. "We are besieged by evil."

"I understand your crops are failing," Athos continued in an almost patronizing tone. "What makes you think it is magic?"

"Each night another field falls cursed," Father Duval replied. "What else could so swiftly decimate them if not black magic? Our stores are dwindling, and if this evil is not stopped, they might be poisoned as well."

Athos rolled his eyes at that. "Where is this witch you suspect?"

"She lives in a small dwelling outside the village," the priest answered. "She is a fey woman with strange habits. Many here have witnessed her odd behavior, and she keeps to herself, does not attend Mass."

Aramis couldn't help but shoot a wry look at Athos; by half that description, the dour swordsman could be a sorcerer and his potion the bottle.

"I have written to Cardinal Richelieu of all of this," Father Duval went on.

"Which is why we are here," Aramis spoke up. "Which direction is this dwelling?"

"South of here."

"Then we shall go see for ourselves," he said, and the musketeers excused themselves.

They mounted their dragons again but remained on the ground, wanting to take a look at one of the affected fields on their way.

"I don' like witches," Porthos grumbled.

"Have you ever met one?" Aramis replied.

"Well, no. But it ain't natural, the stuff they do."

"Are reported to do," Aramis corrected.

"We do not even know there is a witch here," Athos put in impatiently.

"But somethin's obviously goin' on," Porthos pressed.

They came along the edge of a wheat field and drew to a stop. Something was definitely going on, alright. Aramis gazed out at the flattened stalks, so dry and withered that they'd simply fallen over. He slid out of the saddle and bent down to pick up an ear. It crackled and crumbled in his hand. Aramis shared a grim look with the others before climbing back onto Rhaego and continuing on.

They passed another field in the same condition as the first, and Aramis could understand why the villagers were so frightened. This was their livelihood at stake.

"Over there," d'Artagnan said, pointing across a third field to where a cloaked figure was crouched in the middle of the rot. The person was picking dead wheat ears and stuffing them into various glass vials. The figure stopped and froze at the sight of the dragons and Aramis finally saw that it was a woman.

"Well," he commented dryly. "That isn't suspicious."

The woman slowly stood up and pulled the hood down from her head, revealing ebony dark curls. She didn't move as the musketeers dismounted and made their way toward her. Either she wasn't afraid, or she knew running from three dragons would be futile.

"Afternoon," Aramis greeted. "Might we inquire as to what you're doing?"

Her gaze flitted tensely over their uniforms. "The crops are dying. I'm trying to figure out why."

"The locals believe it's witchcraft."

She continued to eye them warily. "And the King has sent his Musketeers to put an end to it?"

Aramis exchanged a look with the others. "The Cardinal, actually."

"Of course."

He shifted, not feeling entirely comfortable coming right out and asking if she was the witch they were looking for.

"Are you the woman who lives alone on the outskirts of the village?" Athos asked.

Or they could just say that.

She lifted her chin a fraction. "If I am?"

"Then you are under arrest."

"I am not responsible for what's happening to the crops. I'm trying to find a way to _fix_ it."

"Wit' magic?" Porthos interjected suspiciously.

She shot him a disparaging look. "People are quick to call anything they don't understand magic." She gestured to the vials on the ground. "I'm running tests, the scientific way. Please, let me continue before whatever is killing the crops spreads, not just to the rest of the fields here, but other villages as well."

The musketeers exchanged another round of looks. Their orders were clear: arrest the witch responsible for cursing the crops. But they didn't _know_ she was responsible yet. And arresting her and taking her back to Paris wasn't going to fix the immediate problem, so if there was a way she could solve it, wasn't that more of a priority? Aramis arched a brow at Athos, the one of them least swayed by accusations of witchcraft.

"Very well," Athos finally said.

The woman inclined her head in gratitude and bent to pick up her vials. Aramis knelt to help.

"What is your name?" he asked.

"Agnes."

"I'm Aramis. That's Athos, Porthos, and d'Artagnan."

Agnes nodded to each of them. "I live this way," she said, turning to lead them across the field.

Porthos waved for their dragons to follow.

Agnes cast a look over her shoulder as the large beasts started after them.

"Don't be afraid," Aramis said.

"I'm not."

She led them through a small copse of trees and to a small hut with a thatched roof. There was a stack of firewood outside along with some tools and what looked like an herb and vegetable garden. The inside was a single space dwelling with a low bed against the back wall, some wooden tables for cooking and working, and a rocking chair by one of two windows. Despite looking impoverished, Aramis couldn't see that Agnes lacked for anything. There were vegetables and cured meats hanging from the ceiling, snares in one corner, and a stack of quilts near the bed. There were also a number of jars and vials that made the home look more like an apothecary's studio.

Or perhaps a witch's lair, Aramis thought wryly as he caught Porthos gazing around at the items in suspicion.

Aramis walked over to a shelf unit and arched a brow at a set of finger bones. He picked one up. "These are a rather…unusual taste in decor."

Agnes glanced over as she set her vials on another table. "The Church keeps the bones of saints as relics."

Aramis canted his head. "Touché." He set the digit back on the shelf and walked over to see what Agnes was doing.

She had a collection of other vials with various liquids and was adding drops from different ones to different samples of the dead wheat ears.

"What kind of tests are you doing?" he asked.

"I'm trying to determine whether the crops are dying from a disease or parasite," she replied. "Seeing which solvent the wheat reacts with will give me more information."

"You are a woman of science," he remarked, impressed. But no wonder the Church was quick to label her a witch; such pursuits were not deemed appropriate for women in general.

"Where did you learn these sciences?" Athos asked.

"From people I've met in my travels," she said.

"How long have you lived in this village?" Aramis asked next.

"Only for a little over a year." She stirred one of the vials and then capped it. "This place was abandoned and in disrepair. I did not think anyone would mind my making use of it. And they didn't. Not until recently, anyway."

Aramis roved his gaze around her work station. "Have you tried explaining to them your pursuits are in the realm of science, not magic?"

Agnes scoffed. "No one has ever given me the opportunity. Most run when they see me. The priests brandish their crosses and utter exorcisms when they happen to cross my path."

Aramis frowned. He could understand how holy men would feel duty bound to combat the forces of the Devil, but that kind of behavior to a young woman was simply rude.

"Perhaps we can clear things up for them if you can find a remedy for the crops," he said.

Athos shot him a warning look. Their orders weren't to investigate and pronounce judgement but to bring the "witch" back to Paris and hand her over to the Cardinal.

Aramis gave a subtle shrug in return. He did know that. This was why it was best not to get involved in matters.

Too bad he hadn't quite gotten the hang of that yet.

His gaze was drawn to the table as one of the vials turned red.

"What does that mean?" d'Artagnan asked.

"That the crops are dying from a sickness," Agnes replied.

"So what now?" Porthos asked next.

"Now I must run more tests and experiments to find a cure." She paused and glanced at Athos. "If you will allow it."

Athos appeared to consider it for a moment before nodding his approval. Delaying the completion of their orders wasn't the same as ignoring them.

A squawk from one of the dragons suddenly sounded outside, and the musketeers quickly exited the hut in time to see a man break cover from behind a tree and go running in the direction of the village.

"I am often spied on," Agnes commented from the doorway.

"Indeed," Aramis mused. Someone had to be making all those accusations to the priest at the local church.

"Could be trouble," d'Artagnan put in, watching as the man disappeared from sight.

"Aramis," Athos said, "you and Porthos stay here and assist Agnes if needed. D'Artagnan and I will check in with Father Duval."

Aramis nodded and watched them leave, Savron falling into step beside his rider. He turned back to Agnes. "So, what's next?"

.o.0.o.

They hadn't exactly set an urgent pace toward the village, but by the time Athos and d'Artagnan reached the church, the man they'd spotted running away from Agnes's was just coming out of the building. His eyes widened at seeing them and he quickly darted away in the opposite direction.

"That doesn't at all scream guilty of something," d'Artagnan scoffed quietly.

Athos said nothing as they entered the church. Father Duval was inside, along with another priest. They both looked up at the sound of the door, expressions hardening.

"What is it you think you are doing?" Father Duval demanded.

"You will have to be more specific," Athos replied blandly.

"Why has the witch not been taken into custody!"

"We have found no evidence of witchcraft and she claims to be trying to find a fix to the problem."

The priest's face reddened. "You have orders from the Cardinal—"

"I would think saving your crops would be your foremost concern," Athos interrupted mildly.

"Remove the witch and her evil influence will depart!"

"Until we find evidence of witchcraft," Athos said in a hard tone, "I will treat this as a situation to be handled by rationale and science."

Father Duval spluttered in dismay. "She- she has bewitched you!" He jabbed a finger at Athos's face.

Athos's gaze turned flinty and the man immediately pulled his hand back.

"We will report this to Cardinal Richelieu," Duval threatened.

"Agnes says she might be able to find a way to save the crops," Athos repeated. "Unless you prefer every field be burned, including the ones not yet tainted. Because if we depart with Agnes and the crops continue to die, that is what the King will order be done so that the disease will not spread to other villages. Is that what you want?"

Father Duval's eye twitched. "You are bringing doom upon us," he said ominously.

Athos rolled his eyes and turned on his heel to leave. He was done with their superstition. And at this point, he should just let the ignorant lot of them starve.

"That went well," d'Artagnan commented once they were outside.

Athos strode toward Savron and paused to place a hand on the dragon's shoulder, using the contact with his staid mount to settle his increasing irritation.

D'Artagnan hooked his thumbs into his belt and pursed his mouth. "Do you think Agnes really can save the crops?"

"I don't know," Athos answered. "But let's hope she can. And soon."

Otherwise the priest would be right—the Musketeers would bring down doom on the village in the form of dragon fire to wipe out the blight before it could spread.


	2. Chapter 2

There wasn't much that Aramis and Porthos could actually assist Agnes with as she ran her experiments, save for passing her bottles from her shelves at her behest. Aramis did most of that, as Porthos was too leery of even touching anything he thought could be related to black magic. He stood by the door, arms crossed and looking constipated as he watched Agnes's moves with guarded suspicion.

"How do you intend to find a cure?" Aramis asked, trying to dispel some of his friend's wariness by inviting scientific explanation.

"By running tests until I find the compound that neutralizes the damage," Agnes replied. "Unfortunately, there are a great many on this earth and my only course is process of elimination."

Aramis gazed around at the numerous materials. Yes, that could take a while.

"Athos an' d'Artagnan are back," Porthos reported, gaze angled out the window.

A few minutes later, the two re-entered the small hut.

"Everything alright?" Aramis asked.

"For now," Athos replied. "But the priests are displeased we haven't taken Agnes into custody yet. And their superstitious fears are getting them worked up. Have you made any progress?"

Agnes let out an irritated sound. "You cannot rush science."

Aramis arched a brow at Athos. "Not yet."

The musketeers hovered around the small dwelling, trying to stay out of the way as Agnes continued to work. At one point she ran out of contaminated wheat samples to test and asked them to go out and get her more. Porthos and d'Artagnan went while Aramis and Athos remained to keep an eye on her, though they didn't say so.

The afternoon wore on and evening fell, and still it didn't seem as though any progress was being made. Agnes stood over her most recent mixture, watching it intently. The water inside was murky from whatever she had added to the wheat ear. She stared at it for several long moments before pushing away from the table with a frustrated grunt.

"Didn't work?" d'Artagnan hazarded.

"No." Agnes braced her palms on the edge of the work table. "Not even a little. I assumed I would have to find a combination of elements to treat the disease, but so far _nothing_ is working."

The musketeers exchanged looks. That wasn't good.

"Why don't you take a break," Aramis suggested. "It's getting late and you should eat."

Agnes straightened with a frown as she glanced out the window at the encroaching twilight. "I'm sorry, where are my manners? I should have offered you some food. I get so caught up in my work sometimes."

"Understandable," he said with a smile. "And it is rather important work."

"Here, let me cut up some vegetables." She reached up to remove a sack hanging from the ceiling, but Aramis intercepted her.

"We'll take care of it," he said. "So you can keep working."

Agnes hesitated for only a second before nodding.

Aramis carried the vegetables outside so he wouldn't get in Agnes's way and the musketeers began to set up a camp, since it seemed they would be here overnight and Agnes's small hut couldn't possibly house them all. They unsaddled their dragons and let the beasts loose to go hunting. Aramis settled against his saddle and started cutting up the vegetables into a large bowl while the others unpacked the bags.

"You don't still think she's a witch?" d'Artagnan said to Porthos.

The large musketeer harrumphed. "Can't say fer sure, can we?"

"But, if she was a witch, wouldn't the dragons, I don't know, sense something?" the boy pressed. "They seem fine here."

"Dragons don't hold the same prejudices against magic that we do," Aramis put in.

D'Artagnan furrowed his brow. "Even though they know what our mission is?"

"If she tried to escape, they would pursue her," Athos replied. "But if you're expecting them to hiss and spit at any witch they come across, that is just more superstition."

"Of course, Athos doesn't believe in witches to begin with," Aramis pointed out with a cheeky grin.

Athos didn't deign to respond to that.

"I still don' like it," Porthos grumbled.

"The question is moot," Aramis said, tearing off a chunk of bread from their rations and adding it to the small plate of vegetables he'd set aside. He stood and carried it back into the hut.

Agnes looked up in surprise as he offered her the food. "Oh, you didn't have to…"

"You should eat," he pressed. "You've been working nonstop all day."

She accepted the plate with a small smile. "Thank you." Her gaze drifted down his neckline. "You're a man of God."

He glanced down at his rosary hanging out from his collar. "I try to be."

"Yet you don't seem to despise me."

"You haven't been tried and found guilty in a court of law yet. And even if you were, that would not give me reason to despise you."

She scoffed under her breath. "The Church does not agree with you."

"No," he said sadly.

They fell silent as Agnes nibbled on a piece of bread.

"So if I were a witch," she spoke up softly, "you would not execute me on sight?"

"That's not my job," he replied. "Besides, you're not really a witch."

Agnes studied him for a prolonged beat, then turned away and set the plate on the table. "Thank you," she said. "I should get back to work."

Aramis's brow furrowed slightly, but he nodded in respect and took his leave.

.o.0.o.

Because of the village's unrest, Athos set a watch for the night, not only to keep an eye out for more spies who might wish harm on the supposed "witch," but also to keep close tabs on Agnes. The fact that she was working so hard trying to find a cure counted for something though.

The fire crackled, sending embers floating up into the sky awash with the light of a full moon. Athos roved his gaze over his sleeping companions, then to the small hut where an amber glow still flickered softly through the window pane. It was nearing midnight, and despite the urgency of the situation, Agnes should get some rest as well. Athos stood up and went to the door, pausing to knock softly before entering. He pulled up short when he found the room empty, the candles burning low. His gaze shifted to the back bed—but it was empty as well.

Athos took a few more steps into the hut, whipping his gaze around, but there was no sign of Agnes. There was only the one door; how had she snuck out without him seeing?

Athos turned and strode back outside. "Wake up," he snapped.

Aramis and Porthos immediately came awake and threw off their cloaks; d'Artagnan made a snuffling sound and shifted.

"Agnes is gone," Athos reported.

Aramis frowned. "Gone? Where?"

"If I knew, we wouldn't have a problem," Athos retorted. He marched over to Savron, who lifted his head in query. "You didn't hear her leave?"

The dragon's expression pinched and he abashedly shook his head.

"How is that?" d'Artagnan asked, finally stumbling out of his bedroll.

"Yer gonna tell me that ain't witchy?" Porthos added.

Athos's lips pressed into a tight line. He didn't know how she'd managed it, or why; their only concern now was finding her.

"Do you think we made a mistake?" d'Artagnan asked worriedly.

Athos ignored the question. He didn't want to be wrong putting their trust in this woman, but if they didn't find her, then it would be a decision he would certainly rue. "Split up. The dragons too."

The more ground they could cover, the better.

They all set off in different directions, the dragons taking to the sky to get an aerial view. Athos followed the road along the edge of the village, the path a milky ribbon under the full moon. And so it was that he easily spotted Agnes standing in the middle of one of the dying wheat fields. Her back was to him and she wasn't moving. Athos slowed warily. Were this one of the healthy fields, he might suspect her of being the one to tamper with the crops after all, but it wasn't. Yet she wasn't gathering samples as she had been doing earlier either. A strange blue light was emanating from the space in front of her, wreathing her contours in a hazy outline.

The hairs on the back of Athos's neck stood on end and he gripped the hilt of his sword as he moved forward. Agnes suddenly whirled, her eyes wide at seeing him. He pulled up short yet again and frowned at the candlestick in her hands, glowing a soft amber. There was no trace of the blue light he swore he saw…but maybe it had just been the reflection of the moon, a trick of light.

"What are you doing?" he demanded sharply, his senses still unsettled.

"I think I finally found a cure for the crops," she replied. "I came out to try it."

"What is this cure?" he pressed.

Agnes huffed. "Would you like the make-up of the chemical compositions, or would you just like to see if it has the desired results?"

Athos narrowed his eyes at the evasive answer, but a look around showed nothing obviously amiss. "Why did you sneak off on your own?"

"I didn't want to get anyone's hopes up when I wasn't sure it would work. Time was of the essence though, and I didn't want to wake you."

"We're all awake now," Athos rejoined.

Agnes nodded. "My apologies."

She started to walk toward him; his hand remained fixed on his sword. Guardedly, they both fell into step side by side and started heading back toward Agnes's hut. Athos let out two sharp whistles which were answered by a chirp from above. By the time they reached Agnes's dwelling, the others were returning in response to Savron's call.

"What happened?" Aramis asked, throwing a look of concern at Agnes.

"She claims to have been testing a remedy," Athos replied. "And didn't want to wait."

Aramis's brow furrowed while Porthos and d'Artagnan exchanged skeptical looks.

"And did it work?" d'Artagnan asked.

"We will know in the morning," Agnes replied and started for her home. "In the meantime, sleep well."

With that, she slipped back inside and shut the door.

Porthos turned to Athos. "You don' believe her?"

"I can't see what reason she would have to lie," he said. "Unless she has been playing us from the start."

"Did you find her in a healthy field?" Aramis asked.

"No, in a sick one."

Which was the only reason he was inclined to continue believing her.

Still, her behavior was not without suspicion.

"So what do we do?" d'Artagnan inquired.

Athos strode back to his bedroll. "Wait for morning and see what we'll find then."

.o.0.o.

The next morning they all forwent breakfast in order to check the crops first thing. Well, the humans did. The dragons opted to go hunting rather than go look at uninteresting wheat fields. Aramis couldn't blame them.

There was a nervous tension among them as Agnes and Athos led the way to the field she had visited the night before. If this hadn't worked, they were back to square one.

But as the field came into view, Aramis's eyes widened to see the stalks standing upright and strong. Athos came to a halt, his own expression uncharacteristically open in its stupefaction. Agnes was smiling.

"It worked," d'Artagnan said, giving voice to what they were all thinking in relief.

And so quickly too…it was practically a miracle. Aramis turned to Agnes. "What did you do?"

"I found the right balance," she replied in that coy manner of hers again.

"We need to treat the rest of the fields," d'Artagnan said eagerly.

"No need," Agnes responded. "I treated them all last night."

Athos turned his frown upon her. "You did? You had time for all that?"

"Some wind helped spread the cure," she said. "As did insect germination, I'm sure. Why don't we go check them?"

They _did_ need to confirm that the disease had been countered. Still, Aramis got the feeling Agnes was keeping something from them—and Athos, for one, did not like it.

But if she had saved all the crops, did it really matter?

They trekked all along the outskirts of the village, inspecting each field of crops they passed. Each one looked healthy and hearty, even the ones Aramis remembered were crumbling with rot only yesterday. Such turnaround was staggering. And unfathomable.

"The locals should be relieved to hear their crops have been saved," Athos said as they came to the last field. He shot a meaningful look at the others before saying to Agnes, "Excuse us for a moment."

She gave him an odd look but nodded.

The musketeers moved a few paces away.

"What is it?" Aramis asked.

"Now that the crisis is resolved, we have our orders."

Aramis's brows flew upward. "But she's not a witch."

"Our orders were to bring her back to Paris," Athos reiterated.

"She just saved the crops!"

"And we will plead her case before the courts."

Aramis shook his head in disbelief.

"Look," Porthos interjected, "I can admit she's proven herself not evil, but Athos's right. We have orders."

"We'll just explain to the Cardinal that the rumors were false and that her 'magic' was really just science," d'Artagnan added.

Aramis put his hands on his hips and hung his head. He knew they were right, even if he didn't like it.

They turned back toward Agnes, yet before they could deliver the unfortunate news, they spotted a large group of people from the village heading their way.

"Well this don' look good," Porthos murmured.

The musketeers immediately moved to flank Agnes as the peasants drew closer, led by two priests.

"Is something the matter?" Athos asked loudly above the din of the mob.

Father Duval jabbed a finger at Agnes. "You have neglected your duty long enough! Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live!"

"She is not a witch!" Aramis yelled back. "She studies science, not black magic."

"I saw her casting a spell last night!" someone shouted. "She's poisoning our crops!"

"Look around you!" d'Artagnan jumped in. "The crops are healthy again."

"By witchcraft!" the second priest accused.

Athos rolled his eyes. "And why would she poison them just to save them?"

"To worm her way into our good will," Duval spat. "But we will not be taken in by her deceits. The witch must burn!"

Men surged forward suddenly, pushing the musketeers back as others seized Agnes and dragged her into the mob. She screamed and tried to wrench away but there were too many. Aramis fought against the tide to reach her but was repeatedly pushed back. The only way through was to draw his weapons and cut them down, but he could not slay a bunch of unarmed peasants. Where was one of their dragons when they needed it?

"Enough!" Athos bellowed. "We will be taking her to the Cardinal for a trial!"

"Will you?" Father Duval seethed. "Whether by enchantment or guile, you cannot be trusted around the witch."

"No, stop!" Agnes screamed, but her pleas were swallowed up in the ruckus of the mob sweeping her back toward the village.


	3. Chapter 3

Athos shoved back against the man who'd been body blocking him as the mob dragged Agnes away, outrage urging him to draw his weapons and unleash violence upon these uncouth men. But the code of chivalry stayed his hand; he would not cut down unarmed peasants.

He knew it was the same reason none of the others had drawn their swords or pistols as well, though they were spitting with fury, roughly shoving at the ones pushing them.

With the mob retreating quickly, those ruffians who'd lingered behind to hinder the musketeers now turned and ran to catch up. Athos watched them go. Pursuit would do them no good, as they were far outnumbered.

"We can't allow the village to do this," d'Artagnan exclaimed.

"We need the dragons," Athos replied, pivoting on his heel to head back to Agnes's hut. Hopefully the dragons had finished their hunt by now. "They should frighten the villagers enough for us to grab Agnes and leave."

"And what, take her back to Paris?" Aramis said, falling into stride beside him. "So she can be executed there instead?"

Athos bit back a surge of frustration; he'd thought the argument closed. "She will have a trial."

"And we know what will happen. It will be the priests' testimony against hers and who do you think the Cardinal will believe?" Aramis shook his head. "Even if he doesn't, he will sentence her to death simply to make an example of her."

"Our orders—"

"Our orders are wrong!" Aramis swept in front of Athos, blocking his path. "Agnes stayed to help these people despite the threat she's been under. She should not be punished for doing the right thing."

"And if we defy the Cardinal, it will be our heads on the chopping block!"

Aramis drew his shoulders back. "Not if no one knows we helped her escape."

Athos shot him a wry look. "And how do you plan to do that?"

"I have an idea…but we'll have to hurry." He glanced at Porthos. "I know you doubt her, and I won't ask you to be party to this if you don't want to."

Porthos harrumphed. "Someone's gotta keep an eye on you two. Especially if this idea of yers is on the crazy side."

Aramis's mien cracked with a grin.

Athos shook his head in resignation. Of course it was going to be crazy.

.o.0.o.

Explaining the plan had taken precious time they could not afford, but everyone needed to be clear on their part if they were to succeed, including the dragons. Then they flew with all haste toward the village. The stake and piled kindling was easy to spot from the air, and Agnes was already tied to it as men with lit torches moved in. Aramis's breath caught in his throat; this was not justice or God's will.

The dragons swooped down, belting out raucous screeches. The peasants flinched and scrambled backward. Rhaego opened his maw wide and belched out a stream of fire that scorched across the grass between the stake and the crowd, effectively creating a barrier between Agnes and her executioners. The russet dragon angled around behind the wall of flames and low enough for Aramis to leap from the saddle, rolling as he hit the ground to absorb some of the impact. Behind him, Porthos dropped to the earth as well, and their dragons veered back up into the sky. Savron had landed with Athos and d'Artagnan on the other side of the flames to face down the villagers, and hopefully the peasants were too distracted to notice Aramis and Porthos darting for Agnes.

"You are ordered to disperse, in the name of the King!" Athos roared.

"Heathens!" one of the priests railed. "They are in league with the witch!"

"We will take her to the Cardinal," Athos shouted back. "You dare to defy his orders?"

Aramis sprinted across the ground and leaped over the kindling to reach Agnes. He coughed as smoke from the flames blew their direction, but at least it was obscuring visibility and aiding their purpose.

Agnes was lashed to the wooden stake, pallor ashen with terror. Aramis drew his gauche and cut her free. She staggered forward against him, trembling fingers clutching at his shoulder. He tried to brace her with one arm while keeping his other free.

"Sorry about this," he said before bending down and cutting a strip of fabric from the bottom of her skirts.

"Wh-?"

He stuffed the cloth between some twigs of the kindling and then swung Agnes around toward Porthos, who helped her climb over the bundles. Glancing at the wall of fire and smoke to make sure their path was concealed, they then made a dash for the cover of some trees. Athos's voice was still carrying over the din, and it was clear he would never be able to reason with these people.

At the edge of the copse, Aramis ducked behind some brush, ushering Agnes to take cover behind him and Porthos.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"We have to make a good show of it," he replied.

"Of what?"

He flashed her a sheepish look. "Killing you."

Her eyes widened, but before she could say anything more, roars sounded from above where Rhaego and Vrita had been circling. The two dragons now dove toward the ground, spewing geysers of fire at the stacked wood and lighting it with a whoosh and roar of its own.

"No, stop!" Athos's voice rang out.

The dragons banked away, but it was too late; the stake was alight in one massive bonfire that Aramis could feel the heat of from where they were hidden.

"Even the beasts know the witch must burn!" Father Duval shouted.

Aramis wanted to punch the man in the face.

He turned to Agnes. "You'll have to go far away from here, start over," he said gravely. "But at least you shouldn't be hunted."

Her expression was grim but she nodded.

Aramis returned his attention to the spectacle. He heard Agnes say something in a low tone that he didn't quite catch, but before he could turn back, an explosion suddenly ripped from the bonfire stake, shooting a mushroom cloud of flames and black smoke high into the air. The force buffeted Aramis with a belching wave of heat and flattened the gathered peasants.

Aramis shot a bewildered look at Porthos. "What the hell was that?"

Porthos looked equally stunned, and they both whipped concerned gazes toward where Athos and d'Artagnan had been. The wall of fire had been extinguished in the burst of air and Aramis caught sight of them getting to their feet, shielded by Savron.

He turned to Agnes. "Go with Porthos."

Then he broke cover and ran to join his friends, reaching them just as the peasants began to recover from the shock of the explosion.

Father Duval raised a shaky hand toward the bonfire. "See! See the Lord's condemnation of the witch!"

Aramis rolled his eyes and grabbed Athos's shoulder. "Are you two all right?" he asked urgently, giving them swift once-overs.

They both nodded.

"You weren't supposed to add incendie," Athos chastised under his breath.

"We didn't."

Athos straightened with a frown and turned toward the blaze. There was no purple haze to the flames to denote the presence of an alchemical accelerant, nor had Aramis even used gunpowder to make that bang.

Wordlessly, the two musketeers moved forward, pulling out some refroidi crystals from their pouches and tossing them on the fire to extinguish the flames. There was barely anything left of the wooden stake but a stump of char that was crumbling into chaff.

Murmurs began to go up through the gathered crowd of peasants, including hushed voices asking if the witch escaped. Aramis had anticipated that, though. He knelt in the ashes, his back to the people, and pulled one last prop from his pouch to sell the act.

Standing, he turned with palm open to display three finger bones. "This is all that's left," he said, pushing hardness into his tone.

The priests drew closer, eyes widening at the discovery.

"The witch is dead!" Duval declared.

Aramis took a step forward and Athos threw an arm across his chest.

"Let's go."

Aramis glowered at the villagers as he, Athos, d'Artagnan, and Savron began to leave. Rhaego and Vrita had already flown off.

"I can't believe that worked," d'Artagnan said once they were far enough away.

Aramis shot him a look of mock affront. "You doubted me?"

"I doubted it would work."

"The bones were a nice touch," Athos commented mildly.

D'Artagnan made a noise in his throat. "You still don't find the fact that she had those things lying around disturbing?"

Aramis shrugged. "I call it…Providence."

They continued their walk away from the village, past the restored fields, and to the rendezvous point where they found Porthos and Agnes waiting with Rhaego and Vrita.

"Thank you," she said. "You saved my life."

Aramis gave her a small smile laced with regret. "This does mean you can't go home, not even to retrieve your things. Everyone thinks you're dead and it has to stay that way."

She nodded in sad understanding. "I'm used to starting over."

"Where will you go?" Athos asked.

"South, I think. Perhaps Spain. Or Italy. That sounds like an interesting place to visit."

Aramis reached into his coin purse and offered her a few.

"Oh, no…" she protested.

Athos and d'Artagnan immediately did the same, followed by Porthos.

"You'll need it," Aramis insisted.

She looked around reluctantly at the four of them before finally dipping her head in humble gratitude. "Thank you. I hope you won't find trouble for what you did here today."

"As far as anyone knows and will tell the Cardinal, you are dead," Athos replied.

Agnes nodded again, hesitated for a moment, and then turned to start walking away.

Porthos turned to the rest of them. "What'd you two do to the fire?" he asked Athos and d'Artagnan. "You nearly blew everyone up."

"It wasn't us," Athos said.

"Did you swing back for another burst?" Aramis asked his dragon, though he hadn't seen that happen.

Rhaego gave a short head shake.

Porthos's brow furrowed, and he turned toward Agnes. "Hey!" he called.

She paused at the tree line and looked back.

"Are you really a witch?" he asked.

Agnes's lips curved into a sly smile. "I'm just a student of the universe," she called back. "In all its facets."

D'Artagnan frowned. "That's not an answer."

Her smile quirked and she turned away again, slipping behind a tree and disappearing from view a moment later.

Aramis arched his brows at the others. "Well, that's…interesting."

"Are we really supposed to believe _she_ did that?" d'Artagnan said dubiously.

"The crops did recover remarkably fast," Aramis put in.

Porthos looked unsettled but then shook it off. "Nah. That was science, like she said. An' the explosion was jus' an accident. Some powder or somethin' under the wood." He shot a pleading look at Vrita. "You'd tell me if she was a witch, right?"

His green dragon merely rolled her eyes skyward.

Aramis's mouth twitched, and he crossed his arms as he looked at Athos, their resident skeptic. "What do you think?"

Athos didn't respond for a long moment. "I think…" he finally said, "I want a drink."

Aramis laughed. All was right with the world, then.

And as for the question of magic, well…the universe was full of strange and wondrous mysteries.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT TIME
> 
> D'Artagnan accompanies the Musketeer Guard on a hunt with the King, but when a group of assassins assails them, they become the hunted.


End file.
